Chapter 23 Savannah
Savannah
When Luca says your bedroom, my skin turns to ice.
Not because I love that room, but because it’s the first place I ever let myself relax.
it’s the first place I ever slept without listening for footsteps every second.
It’s the first place my body stopped bracing like a dog waiting to be kicked.
And someone walked into it anyway. Someone stood over my pillow.
The air in Gabriel’s office feels suddenly too thin.
It smells like gun oil and leather and that faint metallic bite that lingers after violence, like the walls remember what happened in the corridor.
Gabriel’s arms tighten around me. His chest is hot against my cheek and his heartbeat is loud again.
I can feel the rage in him, the stillness like a predator deciding where to strike first.
My ribs ache when I inhale. My elbow stings under the wrap. My mouth tastes iron.
“Don’t let me see it,” I whisper.
The words come out before I can stop them, because my brain already knows what the note will say. It will say you are still mine and I can get to you anytime.
Gabriel’s mouth moves near my ear. His voice is low. “I won’t.”
I blink hard. “What.”
He pulls back just enough to look at my face. “I won’t let you see it,” he repeats. “Not unless you ask.”
I swallow hard. “What if I need to know,” I whisper.
Gabriel studies me for a beat, then nods once. “Then you ask,” he says. “And you read it on your terms. Not theirs.”
My chest aches harder. “Where is it,” I say.
Gabriel glances toward the door, then back to me. “Luca has it.”
I nod, but my body doesn’t care that Luca has it now. My body cares that it existed, that it touched my bed, that it sat on my pillow.
My hands start shaking again.
Gabriel notices immediately. He moves us backward until my calves hit the edge of the couch and guides me down.
I sit, but my breath is too fast and my throat feels tight like someone’s choking me.
Gabriel crouches in front of me and lifts his hands slowly, then cups my cheeks. His palms are warm, slightly rough.
“Look at me,” he orders softly.
I look.
“They got close,” he says. “But they didn’t get you.”
My throat tightens. “They entered my room,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s jaw flexes. “I know.”
It feels like a violation, like my body is already dirty again.
“It makes me feel as if I’m back there,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s eyes narrow, and then he speaks slowly, “You’re not back there,” he says. “You’re here.”
My breath shakes. “Prove it,” I whisper.
The words slip out, a challenge and a plea at the same time.
Gabriel’s gaze drops to my mouth for half a second, then back to my eyes. His voice lowers. “How.”
My throat works. My cheeks burn with embarrassment that feels like pain, and my body answers before my fear can stop it.
“I want you,” I whisper.
Gabriel goes still.
I swallow, voice shaking. “I want to feel… chosen.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightens like that word hits him somewhere deep. He leans closer, voice rough. “You are chosen,” he says, then pauses and asks like it matters. “Do you want me to touch you.”
My breath catches. I nod.
His hands slide from my cheeks to the sides of my throat, just holding, and his thumbs stroke once, slow. Then his hands move to my shoulders and squeeze gently, testing if my body flinches. I don’t . I breathe.
Gabriel’s mouth touches my forehead, then my temple, then the corner of my mouth.
Slow kisses. Then he kisses my mouth fully.
My hands grip his shirt like he’s the only solid thing in the room.
His scent is dark, smoke, spice, cold air, something underneath a spicy expensive soap, and it fills my lungs.
Gabriel’s hand slides into my hair at the nape of my neck. I exhale into his mouth, a shaky sound.
He pulls back slightly, stands, and offers his hand. I take it. He pulls me up slowly, then guides me to his desk and backs me gently against the edge. His body presses close to mine and his hands settle on my hips. He kisses me again, and this one is hotter. My skin sparks. My stomach tightens.
“Is this wrong,” I whisper.
Gabriel pulls back instantly. His hands still. His eyes search mine.
“No,” he says. “Not if you want it.”
“I do,” I whisper.
He nods once. “Then it’s right.”
He kisses me again. My hands slide up his chest and I feel the strength under fabric, the restraint, the way he’s holding himself back for me. My body reacts and my breath turns ragged.
“I want more,” I whisper.
Gabriel stops instantly. He doesn’t take more as permission. He asks. “What does more mean.”
My cheeks burn. I am not used to saying it out loud, not without consequences. I swallow and force it. “Touch me,” I whisper. “Under… here.”
I guide his hand, slow, toward my waistline. Gabriel’s eyes stay locked on mine as his hand slips under the hem of my shirt. He moves slowly, touching like he’s mapping the shape of me. I shudder.
His mouth drops to my neck. A slow kiss, then harder, firmer. My breath breaks.
“Gabriel…”
He stills. “Tell me what you need,” he murmurs.
I swallow hard. “don’t leave.”
He lifts his head. His eyes are fierce. “I’m not leaving.”
Then he says something that flips my stomach. “With you is the only place I want to be.”
The words hit too hard, because no one ever said that to me without wanting something ugly. But his voice isn’t pretty. It’s raw, it costs him to admit it.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper.
His mouth brushes mine. “You don’t have to know,” he says. “You just have to feel.”
I nod, and I let myself. His hand continues, slow and intimate, while his mouth keeps moving, lips sweeping across my throat, my jaw, and my lips. My body heats and trembles as I cling to him.
Then the knock hits the office door, sharp and urgent.
My whole body jolts violently.
Gabriel freezes instantly and steps back half a foot. “Look at me,” he orders.
I look, eyes wide.
“In,” he says.
I inhale.
“Out.”
I exhale.
Again.
My chest stops trying to collapse.
The knock comes again.
“Jefe,” Juan’s voice calls. “We have the note.”
Gabriel’s eyes go cold. Mine go colder. My stomach twists, it’s trying to leave my body.
Gabriel looks at me, voice low. “Do you want to read it.”
My hands are shaking. My skin is still buzzing from his touch. My brain wants to run. But something else in me, anger and pride and spite, wants to face that man, even if it’s just the paper.
“Bring it,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s eyes narrow before he turns to the door. “Enter.”
Juan steps in holding an envelope inside a clear evidence bag. He doesn’t come close. He sets it on the desk like it’s poison, because it is.
Juan’s eyes flick to me, then away, respecting my privacy. “We swept your bedroom,” he says. “No devices. No cameras. Just the note was left behind.”
Gabriel nods once. “Out,” he orders.
Juan leaves.
Gabriel stands beside me.
I step forward. My fingers hover over the evidence bag, shaking.
Gabriel’s voice is low. “Breathe.”
I do.
I pick it up. My hands feel numb. I open the envelope. A single folded page. Black ink. Neat handwriting.
My eyes scan, and the words hit like a fist.
You can wear his ring. You can hide behind his walls. But your body remembers who trained it. When you sleep, you will hear me.
V.
My vision blurs. Not tears yet. Shock. Then nausea. My stomach rolls.
I drop the page. It flutters onto the desk.
My hands start shaking so hard my wrists ache.
Gabriel’s hand touches my waist, gentle. “Look at me,” he says.
I can’t. The words crawl across my brain. Your body remembers.
My body does remember. That’s the problem.
Gabriel’s voice gets firmer. “Savannah.”
I flinch at my name.
He tightens his grip slightly. “Eyes.”
I force my eyes up.
His gaze locks on mine. His voice is steel. “That note is a lie,” he says.
My lips tremble. “He…”
Gabriel cuts in. “He did not train you.”
My throat tightens. Tears spill, one, then more.
Gabriel wipes them without breaking eye contact, then speaks low. “You want to send a message.”
My breath catches.
“Then we send one,” he says. “One they understand.”
I shake. “He’ll come back.”
Gabriel nods once. “Yes. And he’ll find himself in a shallow grave.”
I swallow hard. I’m tired. Tired of being treated like a bargaining chip.
“I want to sleep without hearing him,” I whisper.
Gabriel’s expression softens by a fraction for only a second, then hardens. “Then you sleep with me,” he says.
My breath catches.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Gabriel cups my cheek. He pauses, then kisses me slow and deep. He pulls back and gazes into my eyes, his hands gently cupping my shoulders.
“I love you,” he says.
The words slam into my chest. Hard.
I freeze.
Gabriel doesn’t flinch at my fear. He repeats it, quieter. “I love you,” he says again. “And I’m going to prove it.
My throat tightens. “How.”
His eyes go black. “By ending Viktor,” he says, then softer, only for me, “and by giving you your sleep back.”
My body is shaking, but I nod, because I believe him.
And that belief terrifies me.
* * *
Dear Diary,
Fear sends tremors down my spine.
A soul deep ache it leaves behind.
A scar that never really closed.
Bleeding through my moments.
Blood seeping through, running down my back.
Wrapping around my throat.
Squeezing until every breath is a privilege.
It pulls me backward.
It drags me into places I never chose.
But I am choosing now.
He is my choice.
Even if it’s a trap.
Even if tomorrow proves me wrong.
He holds me as if it’s real.
Like I am allowed to be held.
My past is not gone.
It’s quieter here but for a moment.
I am scared. And I am angry.
And anger might be the first thing that ever belonged to me.